


Fated

by NeuroWriter14



Category: Hannibal (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betrayal, Dark Lord Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Do not repost, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Horcruxes, M/M, Triwizard Tournament, Will has a secret, tags to be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Two orphans. Two Dark Lords. One fated connection.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

Harry's fingers tightened around his luggage cart as he stared upward at the crimson and black train; the Hogwarts Express. He had seen it all now, or so he thought. In just a little less than two months, his uncle had seemingly gone insane, hiding from owls and letters only to find that there was nowhere to hide; he was taken school shopping by a half-giant, he met the world's most pretentious blond, and his dark, curly-haired sidekick; his cousin was given a pigtail, walls moved to reveal whole alleys hidden away, and he had just run through a pillar and come out the other side unscathed to find a whole train awaiting him. What an eventful two months. 

Not that weird things didn't happen to Harry Potter. He was a magnet for the weird and troublesome. He never forgot his aunt's attempt to cut his hair only to have it grow back of its own accord. Or the time he found himself on the school roof as he ran from Dudley, his much larger and meaner cousin, and his goonies. Or even more recently when he accidentally set a python on him at the zoo. He didn't know snakes could talk but even the massive python was nicer than his cousin. Or his aunt. Or his uncle. His aunt and uncle despised him, thinking him a freak from even a young age. For a moment, he believed them. Until Hagrid. 

Harry forced himself to move along the length of the train. Parents were there with their children, tearfully waving goodbye and sending their children off for the year. But Harry was here alone. His uncle had dropped him off, a vindictive smile on his wide face indicating that he thought the whole thing was a joke. Finally, he had managed to rid himself of Harry Potter, the burden under the stairs. It was only when the letters started coming that Harry was allowed a real room, which had previously been Dudley's second bedroom. But even then, he was treated no differently. He swallowed thickly and continued down the train. 

He caught sight of a few heads of red hair, the family who had helped him enter the platform. He spotted a girl with large, bushy hair and bright, knowing eyes. He spotted brilliant blond hair and grey eyes closely accompanied by dark curls and ocean-blue eyes. He ducked his head and continued forward. Two of the red-headed boys, twins named Fred and George, helped him lift his luggage onto the train, but their eyes became starstruck when his hair shifted, revealing the scar on his forehead.

He'd had the lightning bolt shaped scar on his head for as long as he could remember. When his aunt had butchered his hair, she left just enough to cover the scar. It was just one of the many reasons they called him a freak.

Once on the train, he found a compartment to himself. And he was alone once more. 

The train had begun to move before anyone else found him. The boy he met briefly on the platform, Ron, if Harry remembered correctly poked his head into the compartment. 

"Is anyone else sitting there?" He asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the other boy entered. 

"Are you really Harry Potter?"

He nodded.

"Do you really have the-" He cut himself off.

"The scar?" Harry asked and the other nodded again. He lifted his hair.

"Wicked."

And suddenly Harry didn't feel like a freak anymore. 

The ride to Hogwarts was filled with all sorts of visitors once the train started going. Not long after Ron entered, the trolley came by and Harry's sweet tooth bested him. He and Ron were piled high with sweets of all kinds, Harry finally having something to share and someone to share it with. Their next visitor a boy named Neville Longbottom who was searching for his toad. He was gone as quickly as he came. The third visitor was the girl with the bushy hair who introduced herself as Hermione Granger and quickly set to work critiquing Ron on his attempt at changing his rat, Scabbers, yellow. She went on to inform them both about the reading she had done, that Harry was in a book, and which house she wanted to be in. Harry was immediately blown away by every detail, overloading his already worry-addled brain. Since the day Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley, he worried he wouldn't be anywhere near as good as his classmates. He didn't grow up with a wizarding family, he didn't even know he had magic until two months ago. How could he compete? Ron had tried to reassure him that other students born and raised with Muggles caught on quickly, but Hermione's knowledge overload made Harry's little hope sink once again. 

Hermione left, and Harry did his best to cheer up Ron. But he couldn't stop his curiosity at Ron's family. He had grown up lonely, even though he lived with three other people. For the most part, they treated him like a burden and in the last month had treated him like he didn't exist. Part of him thought it must be exciting to have so many people who cared about someone. 

Harry idly thought it was Neville or Hermione returning when the compartment door opened for the fourth time, but instead, a group of four boys entered. 

One was the blond Harry had met in Diagon Alley. Another was the curly-haired boy. The last two could easily have been related to his cousin, given their size and cruel-looking faces. 

"Is it true?" The blond asked. "They're saying all up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment." The blond turned to him. "So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

The blond grinned. "This is Crabbe," He pointed to one of the burly boys behind him. "And this is Goyle." He pointed to the other. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." 

Ron snickered, but before the blond could say anything, the fourth boy spoke.

"And _I_ am Will Graham." Harry turned his attention to the fourth boy. His face was casual as though Harry were no different than anyone else he would introduce himself to, but his eyes were sharp and wicked. There was an emotion hidden in them when he looked at Harry that vanished when his head turned to Ron, but Harry didn't know what. In truth, the only one in the compartment who invoked any emotion in him was Will Graham with his terrifying ocean-colored eyes. 

"You'll soon find some wizarding families are better than others." Malfoy looked down his nose at Ron before turning to Harry. "You can't go associating with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand for Harry to shake.

He didn't.

He narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to ignore the fourth boy in favor of Malfoy. "I think I can determine the wrong sort for myself thanks."

Before Draco could say anything more, the fourth boy, Will Graham, dropped his hand onto Draco's shoulder. His eyes gleamed and he had a large, almost cat-like grin on his face. 

"It is his prerogative, Draco." His eyes turned to Harry. "I certainly hope you have a good day."

He departed from the room, practically gliding, with Malfoy and the others following him.

* * *

From the moment he saw Harry Potter, his blood boiled. And how could it not?

But twice now the wild-haired boy with emerald eyes surprised him.

Once had been in their first brief meeting. Will was surprised at how incredibly human the boy was. For all the stories surrounding him, the speculation over the years, one could almost be forgiven for briefly thinking that Harry Potter was something akin to a god. But Harry was no god. In fact, he was a scared, skinny boy with killing curse colored eyes and hair that looked as untamable as a basilisk. Will wanted to hate him. He should hate him with every fiber of his being.

The second time they met aboard the Hogwarts Express, he found himself surprised by Harry Potter once more. He was firm in his beliefs, even if it meant he would turn down the hand of Draco Malfoy. He supposed Harry didn't truly know what the name Malfoy meant in the wizarding world, or even in the dark heart of the wizarding world, but Draco had clearly struck a nerve with his barbs. And Will was more than willing to accept that. He wanted to hate Harry Potter.

Because if he didn't, he might like him. 

Harry had a wild spark in his eyes and the possibility of power rushing through his veins. But there was also something familiar about him. Something that Will couldn't quite put his finger on. He watched Harry, noting the way the boy would return to him rather than Draco. He let Draco think that he was in charge, that he was the leader. It was all for show. Will had the power between the four of them, though he was never quite certain if Crabbe and Goyle had anything beyond rocks in their brains. He was content to let Draco exaggerate his superiority. For now. 

For now, he would wait. For now, he would watch. For now, he would bide his time. 

But even he had to admit that seeing Hogwarts castle for the first time took his breath away. It was enough to distract him for a fraction of a second from the many thoughts that constantly ran through his mind. But then his gaze fell downward once again, finding even in the dark, the dark wild hair of Harry Potter. He kept his face a neutral mask while Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stared in awe at the castle in front of them.

But inside, he was a raging storm. 

The procession of first years traveled up stair after stair into the castle until they found themselves outside a large set of double doors. They milled around, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle talking amongst themselves, Harry and Ron Weasley talking between themselves. But Will was staring at the door. He knew what waited on the other side, what was waiting for him on the other side. And all the weight that came with it. He rolled his shoulders as a professor clad in emerald robes with an equally emerald hat and a fierce look walked through the doors. There were cheers on the other side. The students around him stopped talking, all of them facing the woman.

She introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall, professor of transfiguration and head of Gryffindor house. Will knew immediately she wouldn't like him. He held her eyes though, whenever they flitted across him, and for a moment he wondered if she knew. But she looked away and some of the tension left Will's shoulders. He continued to stare straight ahead as she led them into the Great Hall. 

It was exactly as he pictured, down to the number of stars in the ceiling. For the first time, he finally felt something other than the tension he had always felt. It was a strange sense of belonging. Of home. How strange. How perfect.

They lined up at the bottom of the steps that led to the professor's table. Will's eyes jumped over the table, searching. He found Severus Snape, a man he knew but who didn't know him. He resisted the wicked grin that threatened to cross his face. Everything would be revealed in due time. But it wasn't Severus Snape he was looking for. It was the man next to him. 

Of all the people Will wanted to look for, Quirinus Quirrell was not one of them. But it was necessary. Will studied the man, his wiry thin look, his nervous shuffling as he sat at Snape's side. The man had a purple wrap around the back of his head and Will felt satisfaction run through him. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

Due to his last name, Will was among the first called of people he cared to listen to. He walked with his head high toward the stool. He was tall for his age and didn't have to leap onto it like some of the others did. He sat and watched the shadow of the hat come closer. It didn't bother to touch his head. The hat brushed the curls of his hair and it had already made its choice.

"SLYTHERIN!"

He did smirk then. The lapels of his robes changing to emerald and silver as he walked toward the Slytherin table, taking his rightful place.

He did pay attention to the girl announced after him. Hermione Granger. She was Muggleborn, but Will wasn't one to take chances on such stupid things as blood purity. She was intelligent and driven. She was someone to watch for. 

"GRYFFINDOR!"

How perfect. If he had predicted correctly, he suspected everyone he wanted to keep an eye on was in his house or Gryffindor. He waited for others to be called. Goyle, to no surprise, was in Slytherin. Crabbe had been called before Will, but he already knew where the burly boy would end up, so it wasn't interesting. Draco was called eventually, and the hat settled more onto his head before it decided Slytherin for him as well. And Draco was a Slytherin, almost the exact embodiment of what a Slytherin should be. 

Almost.

He let his eyes drift away from the mass of students once again to the professor's table, but this time he looked at the headmaster. Will knew all about Albus Dumbledore. Including some things he probably shouldn't know. But people were always so forth coming with a cherubic smile and batting of lashes that hid bright eyes. Dumbledore looked at him as Will's eyes landed on them and something flashed behind those half-moon spectacles of his. His eyes hardened for a fraction of a second before he returned to looking at the not yet sorted first years. 

Harry Potter was the next one he cared enough to pay attention to. The hat didn't call him as quickly as Will thought, instead, it almost looked as though there was a debate between the boy and the hat. How interesting. He imagined, or rather knew, how hard it must be for the boy. He was raised a Muggle with a Muggle family. Only recently did he learn he was not only a wizard but likely one of the most famous ones in the world. Will knew, with every part of him, that he was confused and nervous and worried that he wouldn't live up to the fame he didn't want. He knew it for two reasons. One, he was very empathetic. He could easily slide into another's point of view. But he could also literally slide into their minds. Will was a skilled Legilimens and Harry Potter made the mistake of looking him in the eye. He supposed he had family to thank for that. In theory.

Finally, the hat seemed to relent and the word Gryffindor rang through the hall.

How predictable. 

The Gryffindor table cheered loudly and Will rolled his eyes. They enjoyed their celebrity. 

Harry made the mistake of finding his eyes across the hall, emerald locking with blue. 

_Fear._ He was afraid of Will. 

His eyes darted around, looking for anyone else who could also be looking his way before turning back to Harry. 

He winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Three Years Later**

_Harry followed a man, older with a limp and the appearance of someone who hadn't had contact with another human in years. His eyes held the tenseness of someone who had seen more than their fair share and had come out the other side alive, somehow. Harry stopped, letting the man pass him. How the man was so much taller than he, he didn't know. But the man loomed over him as though he were a giant, but everything around him seemed normal-sized. Perhaps it was Harry who had shrunk. The man hobbled toward a manor not too far ahead of him, looming in the darkness save for one light high within the depths of the house._

_The man, Frank Harry somehow knew, opened the large door to the manor with a soft creak. He winced, as though the house was a cannon and he the bombardier. He stepped into the house, the door behind him closing silently and bathing the entryway in darkness once again. Frank moved his way through the house mostly by memory. Harry could somehow tell the house smelled of decay and dormant. For the smallest second, the view in front of him changed. Instead of the dilapidated manor he was looking at before, it was lively and bright. A fire crackled in one of the rooms and conversation in hushed tones echoed from further down the hall. The walls were bathed in orange, making the crimson decor of the entry dance. Still portraits hung on the walls of several people. The two nearest the door were of three people. In the first, an older man sat in a crimson throne-like chair, dark hair sprinkled with white and a stern look on a handsome face. Beside him stood a woman, her hair falling in ringlets next to her face. She had high cheekbones and severe blue eyes. The next portrait was of a younger man standing side face, a cerulean suit accentuating his dark blue eyes accompanied by dark curls and high cheekbones._

_The image faded away, returning to the state of decay and disarray._

_Harry followed as Frank moved through the manor to the stairs._

_The descent was slow and quiet as he tried to avoid making noise. The manor had intruders, after all, Frank must be quiet._

_Eventually, the pair found their way to the first floor and toward the room flickering with fire. Frank hovered in the darkness while Harry curled himself, watching the man._

_Conversation echoed from the room, between Wormtail and another with a high voice that chilled Harry to his already cold bones. Frank strained to hear more of the conversation, confusion flickering over his face._

_"It could be done without Harry Potter, my lord."_

_"Without Harry Potter?" The other asked. "My, my."_

_There was a whimper before the fire flickered strangely._

_"It_ cannot _be done without Harry Potter." A third voice said. The voice was distorted, as though someone was talking through an ill connected speaker._

_Wormtail whimpered again. "I-I do not mean to say it out of concern for the boy-"_

_"No?" The third voice asked. "Is it loyalty or fear the propels your sudden interjection?" Before Wormtail could answer, the voice continued. "You know that dear Harry Potter despises you. Perhaps, it is fear of what happens when the boy finds you once more. Perhaps it is not your lord whom you fear. But the wrath of Harry Potter himself?"_

_"I-" Wormtail whimpered._

_"Or perhaps it is something else." The voice continued. The fire flickered strangely again. "I wonder if you find your task wearisome."_

_"N-no."_

_"Do not lie!" The high voice demanded, finally returning to the conversation. "I can always tell, Wormtail!"_

_"No! My devotion to your Lordship-"_

_"Liar!" The two other voices declared in sync. "Your devotion is nothing but cowardice." They continued. "Silence!"_

_There was a sigh._

_"I have explained my reasons for needing the boy," The high voice continued. "I will use no other."_

_The conversation continued. Harry thought perhaps he should feel something more at hearing his own death being plotted in the room at the end of the hall. Even more, he should feel something at the fact that Wormtail, of all people, was complicit in the plot of his murder. But strangely Harry couldn't feel anything._

_What a strange dream._

_Eventually, Harry's body demanded he move forward, though Harry found himself reluctant to enter the room. Eventually, the body won out and continued forward. But Harry stayed in place. He felt suddenly unanchored, floating listlessly somewhere neither here nor there. The body continued forward, and suddenly Harry was very aware of a massive snake. The snake continued forward into the room, much to the fear of Frank and the body-less Harry Potter._

_"Nagini has some interesting news." The high voice said._

_"D-does she, my lord?" Wormtail asked._

_It wasn't long before the door opened and Harry saw that yes, it was, in fact, Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, inside the room with the high voice. Reluctantly, Harry followed Frank into the room. There was a face in the fireplace, which looked both like everyone and no one at all. The face focused on Harry for a moment, or so he could swear, before it vanished. The high voice, which he now knew was coming from a large armchair, spoke to Frank who bravely quipped back. A series of barbs were traded back and forth before Wormtail moved to the armchair as instructed._

_Slowly, the chair began to turn and Frank's eyes grew wide._

_But before Harry could see anything, a blazing emerald light lit the room, consuming Harry with it._

* * *

Harry's eyes flew open. His forehead burned, his scar suddenly feeling as though it were a fresh wound, ready to tear open and reveal all that Harry Potter was underneath. He gasped for air, feeling as though he was electrified in the worst way possible. He thought maybe this was what death felt like.

It took several moments for him to realize he was not, in fact, dying but instead lying in his bed at Number Four Privet Drive far away from whatever death felt like when it finally came for him. His chest still heaved for a moment as he tried to regain his breath. 

Where was he? What had happened? And more importantly, why did his scar burn?

Harry thought back to the first time his scar ever burned, that first night in the Great Hall. He had finally managed to tear himself away from the wicked look of Will Graham before he found the outline of Professor Quirrell at the professor's table. The man next to him — he would later learn was Severus Snape — was watching him with a vague combination of contempt and curiosity as though he recognized Harry even though they had never met before. Though it seemed everyone knew Harry without him even knowing himself, something he learned to shrug off. But it was only as his eyes drifted over the back of Quirrell's head that his scar, which had only ever been an embarrassment on his forehead, began to burn. He would later learn that on the back of Quirrell's head was none other than Voldemort. It was in Voldemort's presence that his scar burned. 

But Harry was in Little Whinging. Far from Voldemort. In fact, Voldemort himself hadn't been seen in three years. Certainly, the diary with his 16-year-old self preserved in the pages had been seen, and Harry still had nightmares about the Chamber of Secrets and the darkness within. But even that wasn't Voldemort himself. A memory, the diary had said. Wherever Voldemort was, it wasn't here in the room with Harry now. So why did his scar burn?

He thought back to his dream as he pulled himself from the bed. He remembered that in the moment, it felt so strangely real, and yet now, he could only remember vague bits and pieces. Like a puzzle with the image blurred. He walked toward his wardrobe, opening it to find himself, staring back at him in the mirror wide-eyed but no less the same person who he knew had fallen asleep the night before. His hair was as wild as it always was, though verging on slightly shaggy. His eyes were the same color, his face was his and only his. And yet for a moment, Harry could swear he was in a different body, one not his own.

How real that dream had felt. And yet here he was, still in the house of his aunt and uncle.

Voldemort couldn't have been in Little Whinging, and Harry couldn't have been anywhere else. And yet he had a strange feeling that he hadn't truly slept. That somehow, he had been elsewhere, even while his body occupied the barebones bed the Dursley's deigned to give him. 

He pulled away from the wardrobe, his eyes moving over the room, hoping to find something, anything, to take his mind off the dream. 

But not even Quidditch could distract him. He moved to the window, looking out over the street. The sun was barely starting to peek over the horizon, the light stretching out like fingers on a waking hand. 

Who had that third voice belonged to?

Harry leaned forward, pressing his burning forehead to the cool glass.

What should he do now?

He could hear the voices of his friends in his head. Hermione would tell him to tell Dumbledore before going to research cursed wounds. Ron would offer a grin and joke about the likelihood of Voldemort's presence at the Dursleys' before he would ask his father. But neither of those sounded appealing at the moment. 

There was always Sirius, the godfather he didn't know he had and who, for a terrible few weeks, had been thought to be the reason Harry's parents were dead. But it hadn't been Sirius who betrayed them. It was Pettigrew.

Why was Wormtail there?

" _It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight... before midnight... the servant... will set out... to rejoin... his master..."_

Wormtail had been the servant chained for twelve years, a rat occupying the Weasley household. But Harry had thought it was Sirius Black, who was imprisoned in Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and the betrayal of the Potter family leading to the death of James and Lily Potter.

Yes, he could ask Sirius. But he wouldn't. 

A dream was a dream after all.

* * *

Will walked behind Draco and his father as they maneuvered through the stadium. His hands were folded behind his back, hearing but not really paying attention the Malfoy's conversation. It was likely about something which Will couldn't be bothered with. Lucius Malfoy and Will hadn't been on the best terms for the last two years. Lucius was unaware of why, but it took every inch of Will's impeccable self-control to keep himself from ripping the long blond hair off of the man's idiotic head. This was the best the Death Eaters had to offer? He had briefly met Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius's father. Now _he_ was a Death Eater. Everything a pureblood should be. Draco was more along the lines of his grandfather, but even he had his father's weakness within him. Strangely, when it came to Draco, Will didn't mind. 

The stadium was crowded, witches and wizards from several nations cramming themselves together to watch the Quidditch World Cup. Will hadn't gained an interest in Quidditch like Draco had, but even he had to admit that there was some semblance of excitement in him at the event upcoming. Languages of all kinds brushed past him, caressing him like the touch of a feather. He focused on some here and there, catching words in various languages and gleaming hints of conversations. Beautiful. 

His eyes danced over everyone, taking in sights and sounds. Normally, he would loathe such a crowd. But he had a feeling, an inexplicable one, that something fantastic would happen. Before something else fantastic happened. 

There was a cheerful boom of voices talking about something excitedly. Will turned his head slightly, making eye contact with Narcissa Malfoy who was walking at his side.

Of all the Malfoys, Will liked Narcissa the best. She was a cunning woman with more intelligence than she let on and a terrifying control over her magic. Lucius Malfoy was the face of the Malfoy family, but Narcissa was the power. 

Will had grown up with Malfoys', taken in when he was only a year old. He was an orphan with no home, but it was the motherly instinct of Narcissa that made certain he would have a roof over his head and food in his stomach. She was not inherently a kind woman, but she was fierce and ambitious. And incredibly smart. Lucius had some grasp of Occlumency, but he slipped from time to time. Draco had been working for years, but he was far from perfect. Narcissa, however, was a steel trap. She never let anything out and was one of three people who he could look in the eyes without anything ever being revealed to him. He often wondered what she knew, how far her depth of knowledge ran. 

But this night, he found himself sharing a knowing look with her while her husband and son blathered on about something else completely.

The top box was rather full by the time they arrived. It was Will who spotted Harry first amongst the sprawl of red hair that lined a row of seats. 

Naturally, Lucius couldn't help himself from prodding at Arthur Weasley. The man turned as red as his hair in anger at Lucius and Will wanted to roll his eyes. Draco moved to enter the conversation, but Will grasped his shoulder, warning the Malfoy heir off any unseemly comments. The Minister, for his part, was completely oblivious. 

Before any more barbs could be exchanged, Ludo Bagman, the head of Magical Sports and Games, burst into the box with two others in tow. All eyes turned to them as Ludo greeted everyone happily. Will watched as the man immediately behind him entered. Much like Ludo himself, Will found his way into the second man's mind upon eye contact. But the third and final man to enter, Will suddenly found was a solid and unreadable as a brick wall. 

The third man was a tall man with sharp cheekbones, a sharp jaw, dark hair peppered with streaks of grey, broad shoulders, and piercing amber eyes. There was darkness in those amber eyes, well-hidden if one didn't know what they were looking for. But Will knew. All eyes were on Ludo and the Minister, but Will's eyes were on the third man. And his eyes were on Will. 

"Oh!" Ludo said eventually. "Where are my manners?"

 _Where indeed?_ Will thought.

"This is Hannibal Lecter, professor of Dark Arts at Durmstrang Institute." 

Will cocked his head. Professor of Dark Arts. That should explain the darkness, but it didn't. Not for Will. 

"Ah," Lucius said. "Here to watch you seeker then Professor?"

"I look forward to it." The other man answered, his voice like velvet and an accent that filtered into the deepest parts of Will's mind and didn't leave. 

The conversation shifted again as people settled into their seats. Fudge's voice boomed over the stadium, but Will was focused on the presence of the man to his right. 

Everyone else around him began focusing on the game, especially the Veela, but Will didn't feel their charm. 

"Enjoying yourself?" A voice whispered in his ear.

"Are you?" He asked quietly, his voice mostly drowned out by the festivity around him.

"I find that tonight is more intriguing than I expected." 

Will's eyes flicked for a second to the man next to him. He was still looking forward, as though he was watching the game. 

"Perhaps your intrigue is misplaced." 

"Perhaps." The man hummed. 

They were silent for another minute while a few of those around him, including Harry Potter, cheered wildly. 

"You do not seem intrigued," The other said quietly.

"Perhaps I don't find anything intriguing." It was a lie, but one he was content with.

"You will." He whispered in Will's ear, but as Will turned, Hannibal Lecter was gone. He smirked into the unoccupied space.

The night wore on until the game came to an end. And then Will finally was ready for his fun. 

The crowds dispersed from the stadium people cheering and others groaning as they filtered toward their tents. Some people groaned about money lost, others cheered about money gained. Will followed the Malfoys to their tent. Narcissa disappeared inside while Draco found another to celebrate the match with. Lucius's eyes danced over the crowd before he slipped away one direction. Will went the other. It was easy to hide in a big crowd, to slip away unnoticed when everyone was filled with extreme emotions and adrenaline. Will walked away from the various tents, the noise slowly fading into the background. By the time he reached the top of the hill, he could see everything. All the flickering lights from tents, all the shapes of people moving and celebrating. 

He waited, but not for long. 

The noises soon began to change, the flickering grew more intense. Cheers changed rapidly into screams. Flickering became consuming, flames during into fire. People scattered like roaches running from the light. Screams filtered into the air, music in his ears. He watched as the fire grew, illuminating those causing it. He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing just briefly as he let his senses bathe in everything below him. Another stepped up to his side, looking at the same sight he was. They stood silently for a moment before the man moved to step forward, to join.

He grasped the man's shoulder, holding him in place.

"Not yet, Barty. All in due time."


	3. Chapter 3

Will stood near Harry, disillusioned. No one could see him, no one knew he was there, but he was curious. He wanted to know. Harry and his friends were standing near the edge of the woods, having been separated from their group. Harry looked disheveled and worried, his forehead was twitching with his emotions. The three of them were staring up at the Dark Mark, hanging ominously in the sky. Barty had done his job, though none of them knew it was Barty who had done it. Harry was smarter than he seemed, pulling down his friends and by proxy Will when the aurors showed. Among them was a recent transfer from America, an auror named Jack Crawford.

It was Barty Crouch Sr. who charged at Harry and his friends, causing a variety of expressions on their faces.

"Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" Harry immediately protested. And he hadn't. Will could speak up, say that he knew the truth, but instead, he wanted to watch.

"We didn't do anything! What did you want to attack us for?" Ron said next.

"Don't lie!" Crouch demanded. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

There was a whisper.

"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Over there," Hermione pointed to where Barty once stood. "Someone was in those trees. They spoke an incantation."

"Stood over there, did they?" Crouch demanded. "Spoke an incantation, did they?" Will watched anger flash over Harry's face. "You seem well informed."

Harry stepped forward, anger blazing and face stormy. He pulled back his hair, revealing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead right in Crouch's face. "If you think for one second we had anything to do with that, you don't know who I am." His voice was low and menacing, far worse than it should be for a 14-year-old. But the scar and the look were enough to force Crouch to back down. 

The rest of the aurors had their wands pointed in the direction that Hermione gestured and reluctantly, Crouch joined them. The aurors ventured into the woods, with Will careful to stay behind Harry enough that they would walk around him and not find Will. He backed up as the aurors found something in the woods, a series of shouts indicating their find. The shouts became more coherent and the words "house-elf" found Will's ears. He smirked. Barty had done his job well. An argument ensued as the aurors began pointing fingers in various directions, even at Crouch Sr. himself. Will backed away from the scene, losing himself in the woods and away from the chaos they had successfully caused for the night.

There would be mistrust among those in the Ministry now, especially among the aurors. And just before the event of the year. Will ran his tongue over his dry lips. How easy they were to turn against one another. How easily confusion was sewn and mistrust fostered. How beautiful their confusion and chaos was.

Will watched them for a second longer before he finally vanished into the forest.

He walked a little further away, far enough to apparate without being heard but close enough that any magic that registered as "unexplained underage" could be contributed to the aurors in the area. 

"How beautiful." An accented voice whispered somewhere near him. 

He smirked again. 

Hannibal Lecter was still here, he had seen. And he paid attention to Will. 

He searched for the other, but he was likely also in a disillusionment charm. It was possible to find him, but Will was content to let them keep their distance for now. Especially given that they would be seeing each other again soon. He knew that the professor likely knew what was coming, but he didn't know Will did. He would look forward to seeing him again.

Will disapparated with a soft pop.

* * *

Harry stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express.

Over and over his mind kept returning to the Quidditch World Cup. How antsy everyone was, how terrified they were of the Dark Mark, but more importantly, he felt like he was being watched. Yet every time he checked, there was no one there. It made him twitch. His dream floated to the forefront of his mind now and then, his scar ached slightly. It had to be connected, didn't it? But a dream was a dream and at least one year of Divination told him he was no psychic. So, why were all these strange things happening? And why did it keep happening to him? He thought about Charlie's warning that the rules were different at Hogwarts this year. He thought about the man named Mad-Eye, a former auror. He thought about all these pieces that he couldn't quite put together. He was staring at a puzzle without being able to see the image.

It was maddening and Harry didn't want one bit of it.

He just wanted to go to class and eventually be able to leave his aunt and uncle's house. 

The train ride wasn't as cathartic as it normally was. There was an air buzzing about everyone. And that only worsened once Draco Malfoy appeared. 

"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do...."

"Draco," A voice warned a voice that belonged to none other than Will Graham.

Draco and Harry had a healthy rivalry going for the years at Hogwarts. But Will. Harry avoided Will as best he couldn't. He remembered that first night in the Great Hall and the wink from across it. He remembered the look in Will's eye during his second year. There was something strange going on. And during his second year, after an ill-fated dueling club, Will's attention had doubled on Harry. The boy was always silent, always watching him. He could feel those ocean-eyes staring into the back of his head during classes. But Will was never rude, never directly mean. Draco was the one who constantly said or did terrible things. But it was Will who struck fear into Harry more. There was something about him, something that unnerved Harry. But he could never quite say what.

And he could never quite understand why, after his second year, Will Graham was unnerved him even more. 

Harry furrowed his brows at his reflection. He should tell this to someone. Maybe someone else could help him put together all the strange occurrences. Maybe someone else could help him see what he was missing. 

But every time he thought about telling someone, something would hold him back. There was still a piece he was missing, a big piece. 

Harry's eyes flicked to the compartment door as Hermione shut it and he could swear he caught a glimpse of ocean blue.

"That's the second time someone's mentioned Durmstrang," Harry noted aloud.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, sitting back down.

"That professor," He thought back to the Quidditch World Cup. "The one who sat next to the Malfoys. He was a professor at Durmstrang." He focused more on her. "Durmstrang is another wizarding school?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "With an emphasis on Dark Arts."

"That professor," Ron continued. "He was a professor of Dark Arts at Durmstrang."

"I couldn't place his accent. He spoke so little." Hermione said. "But Durmstrang is in the Baltic area, so he probably comes from somewhere in Eastern Europe."

"He seemed," Harry paused, "Odd." 

"Dark," Ron said at the same time.

"Something's coming," Harry turned back to his reflection. 

"What do you mean?"

Harry stared at his reflection as he finally relayed everything that had been bugging him over the last few days. He left out the part about Will Graham and the feeling he had about being watched. He relayed the dream with the high voice and the pain in his scar when he woke up. He told them about how the scar had ached when he looked at the Dark Mark. He didn't look at his friends as he spoke, he focused on his reflection.

"Have you told anyone else?" Hermione asked.

"No."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You should at least tell Sirius. And maybe even Dumbledore."

"It was just a dream."

"Right," Ron muttered. "Like you hearing voices in second year was just your imagination."

Harry shrugged.

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione said. "If it was just a dream, I would say its nerves. Or maybe fear. But since your scar hurt-" She cut herself off.

Hermione was right of course. Every time Harry's scar hurt, it had been a warning. He thought about his scar burning for the first time when Quirrell's back was turned to him. He would later find out that it was because Voldemort himself was staring at him through the fabric hiding him. And in his second year, his scar had burned down in the chamber, when he met Tom Riddle and the basilisk. Dumbledore had said that it was likely that Voldemort had transferred some of his power to Harry the night he killed his parents, which is why Harry could speak Parseltongue. And maybe that would be why his scar burned when Voldemort was near. But it wouldn't explain the dream. 

Subconsciously, he raised his hand to his scar, feeling cool fingertips brush over it before dropping his hand again. He blinked at himself in the reflection, wondering where exactly he should go from here. 

It was right then that Draco chose to burst in.

"Are you going to enter?" His eyes were gleaming wickedly.

"What are you talking about?" Ron snapped immediately. If Draco and Harry had a rivalry, Draco and Ron had a bloodbath waiting.

"Are you going to enter?" Draco demanded again. "Maybe you could finally bring some honor to your family, Weasley." His grey eyes turned to Harry. "And what about you, Potter? Always need to be in the spotlight. Maybe you'll enter."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted before she could start.

"Enough of your games, Draco." 

Harry hadn't seen Will enter, but the other's eyes were on him in an instant.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"I'll tell you." Will backed up toward the door. "But only you." His eyes flicked to Draco before cocking his head. "They'll stay." 

"It's a trick," Ron muttered, his eyes growing harder by the second.

"No trick," Will reassured. "If you want to know, come with me."

"Don't believe him, Harry," Hermione whispered.

But he was curious. And more than that, Will Graham, of all people was offering something _nice._ It absolutely had to be a trick.

"Fine." 

Will's grin was malicious and Harry knew he should probably stay but he followed Will anyway. True to his word, Will and Harry went one way and Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle went the other. He knew Ron and Hermione popped their heads out of the compartment, but Harry stared forward at the back of Will's curly-haired head. The other had always seemed more than his age. He didn't remind Harry of a 14-year-old. He seemed older, or wiser. Or darker. Harry saw the same thing in his eyes as he glanced from the brief introduction of the Durmstrang professor. Will lead them to the end of the car, slipping from it and into the wind as the train sped down its tracks.

Will turned the moment the door closed behind them.

"You're in danger." 

Harry felt himself stuttering at the sentence. 

Will's eyes were urgent. "This year, they're reinstating the TriWizard Tournament."

"The what?"

Will huffed. "The TriWizard Tournament. It's a competition between three schools: Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons." 

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Will looked at him as though he were an idiot. "Don't be a fool, Harry Potter."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why would you tell me this? You live with the Malfoys. The Malfoys hate me."

Something flashed through the other's eyes. "You need all the help you can get."

"Do you know something else?" 

"Harry," Will was getting irritated. "Given your proclivity for trouble," He spoke slowly as though Harry wouldn't understand. "Don't you think this would be the perfect opportunity for more?"


	4. Chapter 4

The sky was falling. Or so it sounded anyway. And Harry's world was going to come crashing down with it. Two things had happened at once. First, they were told that the inter-house Quidditch cup was canceled for the year. And then the ceiling started rumbling. The thunder was deafening before the doors of the Great Hall flew open, rattling the walls they collided with. Lightning flashed, illuminating the stranger's now exposed face. But it wasn't the face that caught Harry's attention. It was the eye that turned in its metal socket and it was looking right at Harry. The man walked, or rather limped, through the hall toward Dumbledore, his metal leg thudding on the floor as he went. The two shared words quietly which Harry couldn't hear. The man limped around the professor's table, taking the vacant seat which normally belonged to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Moody," Harry breathed as Dumbledore began to speak. 

"Let's all welcome our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Moody."

"Mad-Eye," Ron muttered, watching the new professor with fascination.

"I'm gonna be sick," Harry muttered to himself, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It all made sense. The TriWizard Tournament, the dramatic response from the Ministry at the Dark Mark, Moody as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Dumbledore was safeguarding the school by having a former auror for a professor. Dumbledore suspected Voldemort's hand in this. 

The dream.

He dropped his head slightly, not looking but listening to everything around him. He didn't have the chance to tell Ron and Hermione about the tournament and given that he had only just told them about the dream, they were as on edge as he was. He only barely looked up, meeting Hermione's eyes across the table. 

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued his earlier thought as though he wasn't interrupted. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. The Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

Harry and Hermione shared the same look now as the same realization that dawned on Harry now dawned on Hermione. Ron's eyes flicked over as Fred spoke loud enough for Dumbledore to hear. The three of them knew that this had Voldemort's mark on it. And they also knew that, quite unfortunately, Harry would be participating. 

Dumbledore continued, explaining the history of the tournament including the death toll, which caught Hermione's attention. Couldn't he just spend one year without risking death? Just one year where he was just Harry. That's all he wanted to be. He didn't want to be Harry Potter, the boy who lived. He didn't want to have the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He didn't want to be famous. He would gladly give it up if it were possible. He found himself shifting in his seat, subconsciously looking across the hall to where Will Graham was waiting, eyes already looking toward Harry.

_Given your proclivity for trouble, don't you think this would be the perfect opportunity for more?_

Why had Will warned him?

* * *

_Will happened to glance over Draco's shoulder while the blond stared at those on the floor below them. The blond tore a page from the book, a page which Will had happened note contained the word_ "basilisk." _Will hummed in Draco's ear, causing him to jump. There was a commotion below them, likely at having heard that Harry Potter was in the store, the only celebrity who could possibly compare to Gilderoy Lockhart._

_"Trying to get on Harry's good side by warning them are we?" Will asked, tapping the other's balled fist, the page clenched in his grasp._

_"You can't be all right with this," Draco hissed. "You heard what Father's planning."_

_"Yes, yes," Will actually hated the plan, but he played his nonchalance well. "But you know your dear father wouldn't put you in danger."_

_"It_ killed _someone, Will. They're dead. And now he wants to," Draco huffed, looking at the floor below him as people began to shuffle outward. "I'm not like you. I'm not like him. This doesn't seem right to me."_

It isn't. _Will thought. He reached forward and pressed a hand to the other's shoulder. "You do what you feel is right."_

_Will caught a glimpse of wild raven hair at the same time Draco did. The other pushed past him, plastering a sneer on his face._

* * *

"We have until October to learn everything we can about the TriWizard Tournament," Hermione had pulled Ron and Harry to the other side of the common room the moment they entered. The rest had scattered as well, but only Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood by the window, crowding an already too-small table. "That's when the other schools will get here." Her brown eyes flicked to Harry. "That's what he told you on the train wasn't it?"

He nodded. 

She let out a huff and nodded. "You should also talk to Professor Moody." 

"What?" Ron practically yelped. Harry sympathized. It was one thing to admire the man from afar, it was another to find himself asking him for help. 

"He's an auror, one of the best." Hermione insisted. Of course, she had researched him when she had the chance. "I know you were thinking the same thing I was when Dumbledore announced the tournament."

"Couldn't we just have on year without nearly dying?" Ron asked to no one in particular. 

"Talk to Moody." Her eyes turned to the fire. Harry turned as well, frowning slightly into the fireplace. "What?" She asked.

"You know how Nearly-Headless Nick said that it's the house-elves who do all the work?" Hermione nodded. "Do you think that's where Dobby is?"

"Probably," Hermione answered. He nodded. Maybe he could find Dobby again.

The next morning passed without much excitement until they reached Hagrid's hut and an explosion wracked the grounds. Harry didn't know what to think of the blasted-end skrewts, but he, unfortunately, found himself unwilling to deal with them. It was only because of Draco's bemoaning and his appreciation and affection for Hagrid that he even bothered going anywhere near the things. Divination passed with Trelawny once again predicting Harry's death. 

"Should have taken Ancient Runes," Harry muttered bitterly.

The only good thing about Divination was the lack of Will Graham who took Ancient Runes with Hermione. The classes were at the same time so for a couple of hours, Harry was free from the heavy, intimidating ocean gaze of the Slytherin.

All of it culminated at the end of the day with Ron's dad making his way into the _Daily Prophet_ with Draco Malfoy as the bearer of bad news. Harry couldn't help but snap at him in defense of his friend but when he turned his back, there was a loud bang and something hot grazed his cheek.

"OH NO YOU DON'T LADDIE!" A voice yelled and Harry was suddenly face to face with "Mad-Eye" Moody.

His normal eye was focused on Harry while his other eye and wand were focused on a white ferret standing where Draco once stood. 

"Did he get you?" Moody asked.

"No. Missed."

"Leave it!" Moody barked. Harry felt himself tense. "Not you. Him."

Moody turned around right as the Draco Malfoy turned ferret began to run.

"I don't think so!" And suddenly the ferret was in the air, legs squirming but helpless to do anything or go anywhere. "I don't like people who curse others when their backs are turned." The ferret bounced with each movement of Moody's wand, bouncing off the stone floor.

"Professor Moody!" A shocked voice exclaimed as McGonagall appeared, obviously appalled. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching," Moody answered simply as though it were obvious.

"Teach- is that a student?"

"Technically it's a ferret."

There was a loud snap and the ferret returned to the form of Draco Malfoy who dropped to the ground with a loud thump. 

Draco stood, his normally impeccable blond hair pointing in various directions and his eyes frantic. Harry wondered if being transfigured into an animal had some effects on the person as Draco suddenly seemed to take on the twitchiness of the ferret. 

"My father will hear about this!" He spat ready to turn only to stop short.

Will stood just behind him, his arms folded behind his back and his eye glued to Draco. The blond stopped in his tracks, watching his curly-haired friend. Will's hand shot out and suddenly the discarded _Prophet_ went up in flames. He stepped aside, holding his other hand out as an invitation for Draco to walk away. He did, and Will folded his hands behind his back once again.

"My apologies," He said before turning on his heel to follow Draco; Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"We never use transfiguration as a punishment," McGonagall said. "Surely Dumbledore told you that."

"Might have mentioned it," Moody answered.

McGonagall continued to scold him while the students stared at the burning paper.

"That was wandless," Someone muttered.

Harry and Hermione searched for Ron, finding him at the Gryffindor table, his eyes shut.

"Ron," Harry began only to be shushed a moment later.

"I'm going to keep that memory forever."

He and Hermione laughed. But internally, his mind kept returning to Will and the cold look in his eyes. Draco had stopped immediately when Will appeared. And the magic was wandless. Will had always given Harry hesitation, but now he found himself even wearier when it came to the Slytherin. The others talked about Moody while Hermione inhaled her food, likely about to return to the library for research. Part of Harry wanted to join her, to learn more about the tournament, but he didn't quite want to spend all that time reading.

It was another two days before Harry came in contact with Moody again.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were sitting toward the front of the classroom. Moody had his wooden leg stretched forward as he told the class to put their books away. Moody's eyes were flying over the paper in front of him. 

"I've a letter from Professor Lupin. It seems you're caught up on dark creatures." He raised his eyes to the class who murmured an assent. He nodded once. "But very, very behind on dark curses." He hmphed and stood from the table. "So straight to it then."

His eye jumped over the room, focusing for a moment on Malfoy who was somewhere to Harry's left, and then on someone behind Harry. If he had to guess, it was Will.

"The Ministry says I'm to teach you counter-curses and that's it. Well, I say that's rubbish!" He slammed his hand down on the table. "You need to know what you're up against. You need to be prepared! How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you haven't seen! You need to be alert. You need to put that away, Miss Brown!" Moody's eye was on her and she blushed fiercely, shoving a once concealed paper into her bag. 

"Do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

His question was met with silence until Ron finally spoke. "My dad told me about one." He furrowed his brows. "The Imperious Curse."

"Ah!" Moody exclaimed, making almost everyone jump given the silent, dour mood in the room. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry some trouble a few years ago."

Moody limped over to his desk and opened a jar. In the jar was a spider which he enlarged. With a whisper, the spider started moving as Moody's wand dictated. Over itself it went as Moody dictated, doing cartwheels and backflips with nothing more than a gesture. Most of the class was laughing at the antics, except for whoever was behind Harry. He didn't dare look.

"Think that's funny do you?" Moody asked. "You'd like it if it was done to you?" The laughter died instantly. "Take control. Make you jump out the window." The spider went flying toward the window, struggling to keep itself from going out it. "Drown yourself?" The spider jumped toward a glass of water. Next to him, Ron shuddered. The spider returned to Moody's hand. "Years ago, scores of witches and wizards claimed they only did You-Know-Who's bidding under the influence of the Imperius Curse. Some rub for the Ministry, trying to sort out the liars." He returned the spider to its jar.

"The Imperus Curse can be fought. I'll teach you how. It takes strength of character. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Harry and others jumped at Moody's sudden exclamation.

"Anyone else?" He demanded after a moment. "Any other curses?"

Unsurprisingly, Hermione's hand flew into the air. Surprisingly, so did Neville's.

"Yes?"

"There's-" Neville shook slightly, his eyes avoiding Moody's as though the man were going to use the next curse on him. "There's the Cruciatus Curse."

Moody's gaze became more intent on Neville. "Name's Longbottom isn't it?"

Neville nodded and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Once again, Moody went to the jar and pulled forward the spider. He set it on his desk where everyone could see, his wand aimed at it.

"Crucio."

Harry never thought a spider could scream. But it _screamed._

"Stop it!" Hermione all but screamed at Moody. But her eyes weren't on the writhing, twisting spider. They were on Neville who's hands were clutching the desk so tightly they turned white.

Moody let up and once more, returned the spider to its jar.

"Pain," He said quietly, his voice deadly serious. "You don't need physical contact when you have that. No screws or torture devices. Just the curse." He paused for a moment. "That's a popular one."

Harry swallowed thickly, his eyes darting to Neville subconsciously. The boy looked as though he were going to vomit and Harry didn't think he could blame him.

"And the last?" Moody asked. 

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione answered quietly.

"Yes," Moody said. "The last and the worst. Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse."

With a flick of his wand, an emerald light shot forward and the spider which had been trying to escape its glass container fell over, unmoving.

Several people gasped and next to him, Ron almost fell from his chair. But Harry, like Neville before him, suddenly felt sick.

_A flash of emerald. A woman screaming._

_HARRY!_

"Not nice," Moody said again. "Not pleasant. And there is no counter-curse. No blocking it. Only one person ever has survived it." Both of Moody's eyes came to Harry along with the eyes of the rest of the class. Around him, it was eerily silent as he forced his gaze away from the dead spider and to the professor once again.

"And he's sitting right in front of me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it will start getting better.

The TriWizard Tournament proved to be more trouble for Harry. When October came, it no longer became the TriWizard tournament. The champions had been chosen after weeks of curiosity and agonizing. And Harry didn't escape the fray. For Durmstrang, Viktor Krum was chosen as the champion. Fleur Delacour was chosen for Beauxbatons. And Cedric Diggory, Harry's longtime friendly Quidditch rival, was chosen for Hogwarts. And that should have been all. Those three should have been the only ones who competed in the tournament, but they weren't. Harry was also chosen. He remembered the way silence had fallen over the hall like a wet blanket. He remembered the way the fires flickered at that moment, taunting him as the cup had done seconds earlier. He remembered the ways the eyes of everyone from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang turned to him. He remembered the way Moody's eye followed him. He remembered the look on one of the Durmstrang professor's face as he walked through the deathly silent Great Hall.

Harry had seen the professor twice previously. The first was at the Quidditch World Cup. The second was when the schools arrived that first week in October. Due to where Harry was, he could see the entire Great Hall when the schools paraded in, both with their own displays. The students walked in before their headmasters and professors. It seemed the only professor Durmstrang brought with them was their Dark Arts professor, Professor Hannibal Lecter. Lecter had walked in just a step behind Igor Karkaroff, the head of Durmstrang. Due to Harry's position, he could also see Will Graham across the hall and the way he perked up at the appearance of the professor. Or maybe it was just his reaction to seeing the students from another school, Harry wasn't certain. His expression was immediately back to its normal, neutral yet somehow menacing form.

The first task was completed by the skin of his teeth. Had it not been for Ron and Hagrid, he likely would have died. He also warned Cedric when it came to the first task being dragons, though Hermione had some idea of what the tasks might be. Her month and a half of research had narrowed down a general idea of what each of the tasks looked like. One was always a creature task, and Harry hoped that was covered by the dragons. One was always a search of some kind and one was a test of character. 

He found himself grateful that Will had warned him ahead of time about the tournament because while most of Gryffindor house thought he cheated his way into the tournament, Hermione and Ron stayed by his side. 

Between the first and second tasks, while the tried and tried to understand the egg, his clue for the next task, Will reappeared once more. Harry and Will hadn't been in the same place since Malfoy was turned into a ferret, besides classes of course. But Will had found him and pulled him aside.

"Have you figured it out?" He asked, leaning against the end of the bridge that led to the owlery. 

"Figured what out?" 

Will rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry's sack, pulling it closer and yanking the egg from within. "This." He pushed it into Harry's chest.

Harry scrambled to grab hold of the egg before shoving it back into his bag. "Why would you care?"

"You're one of the champions for Hogwarts. Of course, I care."

"Didn't your friend make pins saying I suck?" Harry scoffed.

Will grinned, reminding Harry oddly of a cat. "Yes." His smile dropped then. "But you are also a Hogwarts champion." He leaned forward. "I heard how you helped Cedric before the first task. In return, I want to help you." Harry opened his mouth to speak but Will continued forward, unabashed. "Try opening it underwater."

"How do you know that will work?" Harry asked, skeptical.

"Word travels, Harry. And I'm all ears."

He had the vague sense that Will was lying, but not about opening the egg underwater. He shifted his sack, feeling it brush against his leg, before nodding to the other. "Thank you."

Will nodded and left, leaving Harry to be accosted by Ron and Hermione seconds later.

Before Harry could begin to prepare for the second task though, another much more terrifying issue came to his attention. The Yule Ball. Again, Will Graham stepped up in his time of need. He was surprised that Will peeled himself away from his crowd as Harry looked toward a group of Beauxbatons' girls. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and dragged him toward the group.

"Ladies," He greeted. "My friend Harry here is terribly shy but he thinks you're all lovely. Would one of you be kind enough to be his date for the Yule Ball?"

Somehow, he walked away with a date and a very smug-looking Will returning to his pack of friends.

Throughout the time leading up to the second task, however, Harry began to hear rumors regarding Will. It was strange for several reasons. One, that rumors were spreading about anyone but Harry and that the rumors appeared to be started from the Slytherins themselves. It was odd to hear them talk about one of their own, though Harry suspected they weren't saying anything particularly bad but heard out of context, it caused things to spiral.

He was sitting in the library studying the Black Lake for hours with Ron, who was partially asleep, and Hermione as he had been since he took Will's advice and opened the egg underwater. Harry was ready to pound his head on the book itself. They had been at it for days and the Yule Ball was closing in rapidly. He sighed when conversation from the next stack over filtered toward them. 

"Have you seen Graham lately?" Someone asked.

"Not really," Another answered.

"He's been obsessed over that Durmstrang professor." Harry could tell the first voice was Draco. "Been sneaking off at all hours to talk to him." 

"He went after Defense Against the Dark Arts the other day right to Lecter. It was strange." He thought maybe the second voice was Pansy Parkinson.

Draco sighed before continuing. "There's something off about Lecter."

"There's something off about Will."

The voices faded away, but the conversation ran circles in Harry's mind.

* * *

_Will yawned slightly as he watched Draco climb onto the stage. He doubted that watching a duel between two second years would be all that interesting. He had watched previously, with quite some amusement, as Snape had sent Lockhart flying across the room easily. Idly, he hoped to see that again. But instead, Lockhart and Snape had called for Harry and Draco to duel. Given the knowledge of both of them, he doubted it would be a particularly interesting fight._

_He found himself smirking slightly at Harry's response to Draco's taunt. Constantly, he fought with himself about liking Harry. He thought, perhaps, that he had developed a respect for the Potter heir, who was far more tenacious and braver than Will had previously given him credit for. He should hate Harry. He should hate him with every part of his being, and at one point he did. But now he wasn't entirely certain._

_The spells flung back and forth between Harry and Draco were amateur, until Draco summoned a snake._

_And it seemed as though Harry was possessed._

_His wand lowered and he stared at the snake. And then his voice changed. The snake turned as he spoke and Will found himself perking up. Everyone around him was frozen, but Will was by far much more curious. The snake halted in whatever it was initially about to do, turning toward Harry as though it awaited further instruction. Harry paused, staring at the snake until Snape intervened and destroyed it._

_The wild, raven-haired boy fled from the room, students and professors staring at him as though he were the carrier of a deadly disease. But Will was all but ecstatic._

_"So," He found himself speaking aloud when he was alone. "You're a Parselmouth, Harry. How interesting."_

* * *

The Yule Ball passed with Harry red-faced for the majority of it. Thankfully, thoughts didn't linger on the Yule Ball. Which was fortunate for Ron and Hermione as Hermione had gone with Viktor Krum and that had made Ron insanely jealous. It was unfortunate for Harry because thoughts began drifting back to the second task and Harry was no further than he had been after finally hearing the clue held within.

The best he could figure was that something was likely to be taken from him and hidden in the Black Lake. What that was, he didn't know. And how to hold his breath underwater for an hour, he had no idea. 

He was incredibly lucky that one night, Neville happened to be wandering around the library while Harry and Hermione argued back and forth about his ability to hold his breath underwater. 

"You could always use gillyweed." He said quietly, so quietly Harry almost missed it.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Hermione demanded, shaking her head, her bushy hair flying everywhere. "You're brilliant, Neville!" Neville's face turned various shades of red and he vanished. "How to get some though-"

He and Hermione locked eyes and he could tell, they were thinking the same thing. They would have to steal from Snape's stores again. Thankfully, it didn't come to that as Dobby, who Harry found was working in the castle kitchens, was the one who managed to procure the gillyweed. Just in time for Harry to dive headfirst into the Black Lake.

Harry knew he have been more invested in winning the tournament, especially when Cedric showed up, tapping his watch before he swam toward the surface with Cho. But he couldn't bring himself to leave without knowing that everyone was going to find their way out of the lake. For a moment, he debated taking Ron and leaving, as Krum had already come for Hermione, but the last one in the lake, Fleur's little sister, was still there and Fleur was nowhere in sight. He came incredibly close to drowning, but all three of them made it from the lake somehow intact. 

Harry watched over Fleur's shoulder — as she dragged him into a crushing hug — Will Graham give him a nod of approval. That was before his eyes caught that of the Durmstrang professor who was somewhere behind Harry with Viktor Krum. He turned slightly, watching the professor leaving the stands on the side of the lake, and seconds later, Will followed.

* * *

_"Mr. Graham," The professor greeted, his face not betraying the amusement his eyes did. "We must stop meeting like this. People will begin to speculate the worst."_

_"Let them," Will answered, falling in step with the professor as they moved across the grass._

_The weather had begun to cool, winter was on its way. And with it, he suspected a few other things. Will folded his hands behind his back as they walked._

_"Shouldn't you be among your peers, attempting to find dates for the Yule Ball."_

_Will chuckled to him. "I won't be attending the ball."_

_"I was under the impression it was mandatory."_

_Will doubted the professor was saying it for any other reason than to sound much like his profession, but Will decided not to call him out on it._

_"It might be. But rules are meant to be bent and when necessary, broken."_ _The other hummed in response, but Will could see his amusement out of the corner of his eye. "I don't suppose you'll be attending the dance either."_

_"If you are intending on asking that I go with you, I will remind you it is highly frowned on for a student to be seen in such a position with a student."_

_Will doubted that Hannibal actually cared, but he found himself smirking nonetheless._

_"I would never want to compromise your position as an esteemed professor by asking such an asinine question. I'm merely curious where you will be spending that night." He tried to make his voice as innocent as possible, but he knew the other saw through it._

_"I suppose I will find something to keep myself busy," The professor answered, keeping with the innocent tone Will had started._

_He smirked again. "Shame then." He moved to step away when he was suddenly met with one of the rare feelings he had been able to pull from the professor. It was a command, a demand for him to stop and wait. And he did._

_"Since you will not be spending the evening with your peers, I assume you will be alone most of the night."_

_"You assume correctly." Will turned to face the other man as they had now stopped moving._

_"Would you care to join me that night for dinner?"_

_Will refrained from smirking. It was exactly what he wanted, but he wouldn't let the other know that. Instead, he feigned shock. "Why Professor, if I didn't know any better I would say you were trying to get me, an innocent student, alone."_

_Amusement once again flashed in those amber eyes as he focused his gaze on Will. "You and I both know you are not innocent."_

_Then Will did smirk. "Dinner it is then."_

_It couldn't come soon enough for Will. He was practically buzzing with excitement. While everyone else readied themselves for the ball, Will readied himself to meet Hannibal. The other had somehow very cleverly left him a note with a meeting place. As others filtered toward the ball, Will snuck out and found his way to Hogsmeade. It was easy to slip away unnoticed when the majority of people were focused on one thing in particular. He let himself be seen when he arrived in Hogsmeade, finding the professor waiting for him where he said he would be. They walked in silence for a moment before Hannibal turned to him._

_"I assume you've apparated before."_

_"Once or twice," Will answered._ _He held his arm out and Will took it. "Where are we going?"_

_"Not far. I think you'll like it."_

_It turned out that where they were going was a house that belonged to Hannibal somewhere not far from the castle. It matched what little Will had been able to gather of his personality from the decor to the grandiosity of the kitchen. Will had a theory regarding the good professor and his house all but smacked him in the face with evidence. It turned out that Hannibal had begun cooking before he came for Will as dinner was nearly done when they arrived. They talked about nothing in particular, dancing around circles of things they already knew but wouldn't say._

_He knew Hannibal knew there was darkness in both of them. It was something they shared. But rather than come out with it, they maneuvered around it verbally, never admitting it._

_When Will finally was able to eat, after scintillating conversation and the torture of delicious smells, he noted the meat tasted strange. Another few bites and he was all but certain of his theory regarding Hannibal. The other eyed him as he ate so Will made a point of humming in satisfaction. Truly, it was a delicious meal._

_But Will had ideas about the origins of the meat._

_Hannibal seemed pleased though, and they continued the night the same way they had begun it._


	6. Chapter 6

Will returned to where Crouch Sr. and Harry were talking, Moody having interrupted the conversation. He watched as Crouch Sr.'s eyes narrowed as Moody's tongue dashed out over his lips, not unlike a snake tasting the air. Harry, of course, didn't seem the think much of it, but Will found himself pushing forward. Hannibal Lecter, who Will had just conversed with, walked by them with only a glance back in Will's direction before he continued. Will, however, couldn't force himself to pay attention to the other man. He was much more focused on the issue at hand. He walked forward toward the small group.

"Professor," He said loudly, pulling the attention of all three people. "I am so sorry to interrupt. Professor, do you have a moment? I have a question regarding an assignment."

The three of them quickly recovered from Will's intervention as Moody grunted something that sounded like a yes and he and Will walked away. Crouch Sr. moved away from Harry somewhere behind them and he was immediately surrounded by his friends. He came up with something to talk about as the two of them walked away from the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder, looking to see where everyone else was. 

"That tick of yours is going to get you noticed," He snapped. "If it hasn't already." 

He caught sight of Crouch Sr. who's eyes kept drifting back to Moody. 

"He thinks I'm dead," Barty answered through Moody's voice. 

"He did," Will answered. Only two emotions were radiating from Crouch Sr. One was confusion, the other was fear. Will knew he was connecting the dots that "Mad-Eye" Moody was not that man he appeared to be. Will could hear the cogs turning in the man's head as he tried to piece together what a few minutes ago he thought was impossible. "You need to be more careful."

Barty rounded on him, glaring at him through a face not his own. "I've been doing this longer than you've been alive, boy."

Will rolled his shoulders and let out a sharp breath through his nose. "Your primary focus is making certain Potter makes it through that maze. Don't lose focus now." He snapped. 

"Don't disrespect me again, boy." 

Will made eye contact with the other man, a smirk crossing his face as the other's eyes darted away. "Don't forget," He hissed lowly. "You owe me, Barty. Do not make me collect."

He walked away while the other fumed somewhere behind him. 

If his calculations were correct, Harry and Cedric Diggory would be entering the maze first, which would give Harry a better chance of making his way through it to the prize at the end. Assuming he was smart enough to pass some of the trials in the maze. He studied the other ahead of him, his shoulders slumped under the mass of blankets he had been provided after emerging from the lake. Harry was plenty smart, smarter than people gave him credit for. So much potential under that wild raven hair and those emerald eyes. He was curious about what the future would hold for Harry Potter, assuming he survived the maze.

* * *

_Will sat in a rather uncomfortable chair at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The mediwitch who escorted him into the room busied herself with her patient, doting over him fondly. To his credit, Gilderoy Lockhart was by far much more tolerable now that he had lost his memories of fame. Will came under the guise of a distressed student, checking up on a former professor. And of course, they fell for it. One look at his innocent eyes and bouncing curls and they thought him an angel. His abilities also gave him the upper hand, able to help him say someone else one way or another. The mediwitch made certain that Will had everything he needed and he assure that he did, flashing a smile. The mediwitch returned it and then left the room, assuring Will she would be close by if he needed anything._

_Lockhart stared at him for a moment and Will could feel the hint of recognition in the other's mind before it faded away just as quickly. The memory spell had certainly done a number on him._

_"Professor," Will began sweetly, knowing the mediwitch was still within earshot. "I hope they are treating you well here."_

_"Oh, yes yes," Lockhart answered the recognition gone from his eyes and replaced with the same brand of ego Will had felt from the man before he lost his memory. "They tell me I'm famous. And how could I not be?" He flashed a smile. "What can I do for you young man? Apologies, I don't quite remember you. You were one of my students you say? Perhaps you would like an autograph from your favorite professor."_

_Will's smile became more menacing, knowing that he and Lockhart were now alone. "No, Professor." He stood, setting the tea he had been offered down. "Just your memories."_

_He launched forward, grasping the other's head in his hands and delving deep into the twisted maw of his subconscious. Everything was a jumbled mess, memories were floating here and there, constantly coming in and out of focus. He searched through them as best he could, attempting to make sense of the madness the found Gilderoy Lockhart. He searched through them, catching a glimpse of his own face. But it wasn't his face he was looking for. Another memory caught his attention, darkness, and then a blinding white light. He pulled that into view._

_Harry's face flashed in front of him, emerald eyes focused on the sink in a bathroom. His voice, commanding the entrance to open, radiated around the bathroom, Parseltongue making its way into all corners. He watched as the memory flicked in and out of focus. The sinks moved apart and one dropped into the floor. The memory shifted slightly and Lockhart was staring down at the sink of a massive snake, Weasley's broken wand in his hand and the eyes of both Ron Weasley and Harry Potter on him. He yelled the memory spell, but it rebounded, his vision filled with bright white._

_Will pulled back, letting his hands drop from Lockhart. The other slumped in his chair._

_"Thank you, Professor. That was inciteful."_

* * *

_Harry almost ran headlong into Will Graham on the first floor. Will was brushing off his robe which was held to one side as he brushed it. Whatever was on it fell to the floor and vanished as all dirt and dust did. Whatever Will had been up to didn't interest Harry. He and Ron had other places to be. Will's ocean-colored eyes focused on Harry for a second._

_"Sorry," He muttered, already trying to sidestep the other._

_"No," Will answered. "My apologies. I wasn't looking where I was going." He grinned, reminding Harry of a shark. "Have a pleasant evening."_

_He and Ron moved around the Slytherin, doing their best to look casual as they walked toward the girl's lavatory. Harry checked behind him to see if Will was gone before he and Ron darted inside. Hermione was only just starting to set up, ingredients stolen from Snape's stores spread around her._

_"Find it well enough?" She asked._

_"Ran into Graham outside," Ron answered. "There's something creepy about him."_

_Harry was inclined to agree, especially given the look in his eyes when he and Harry almost ran into each other._

_"I saw him too," Hermione said. "He was walking down the hall when I came here."_

_"Remind me again," Ron said. "Why are we doing this in the middle of the day in the girl's lavatory. Aren't we going to get caught?"_

_"No," Hermione answered. "No one ever comes in here."_

_The next bit of conversation, especially with the rather angry ghost who appeared, was enough to distract Harry from the strange feeling he had at seeing Will so close to where they met for their newest bit of rule-breaking._

* * *

_Harry couldn't understand why Tom Riddle looked so familiar to him. He and Ron were visiting Hermione in the hospital wing after her botched attempt using the Polyjuice Potion. She seemed to be doing better, even though every now and then she would turn and cough up a rather uncomfortable looking hairball. Harry told Ron and Hermione about the encounter with the diary and the memory of Tom Riddle and Hagrid. Before his eyes flashed the image of 16-year-old Tom Riddle, a rather handsome boy, with dark blue — nearly black — eyes, and wavy chestnut hair with a lone curl on his forehead._

_There was something eerily familiar about him, even though the memory occurred 50 years before. He didn't understand what about the boy was so interesting to him._

_Ron brought his attention back by telling him and Hermione about one of the trophies he dusted off when he had detention. The name Tom Riddle was written on it and it was awarded for special services to the school. Idly, Harry wondered whatever became of Tom Riddle, the handsome Slytherin prefect._

* * *

Harry stood just outside the door to Dumbledore's office, hearing the conversation inside. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but his curiosity bested him and he found himself leaning forward slightly to listen in. He could hear the distinct voices of Dumbledore and Fudge, and another deeper voice that Harry had the strangest feeling was often used for yelling. 

"-don't know how things work in America," Fudge muttered bitterly. "But that is not how we doing things here."

"With all due respect Minister," The man with the deeper voice said. "I believe that there are several nefarious things at work here."

"A Ministry official was just murdered on Hogwarts grounds and you want to talk about monsters!" Fudge exclaimed. "We have more pressing issues now Crawford." 

"I never said-" The man, Crawford, cut himself off and sighed. "I've worked closely with the Ministries in Italy and France. The aurors there agree with me. There's a dark wizard out there with a knack for killing." Fudge huffed by Crawford continued forward. "The Italians call him 'Il Mostro' and he has no qualms about killing. No-Majs," He paused. " _Muggles,_ Muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods. It doesn't matter. We have evidence that their deaths were all magical." 

"And do you think this _Il Mostro_ is responsible for the death of Barty Crouch?" Fudge demanded.

"No-" Crawford began but he was quickly cut off by a scoff from Fudge.

"Then I'll hear no more of it!"

"If you please," Harry could tell the auror was becoming angry. "All I caution is that there may be more than one dark force at work here. I believe Il Mostro has come here and he may not leave." 

"Your warning will be taken into account Jack," Dumbledore said, quieting any further arguing between the two of them. "It can't do any harm to be prepared."

"Gentlemen," Moody's voice said suddenly, interrupting their conversation. "It may interest you to know this conversation is no longer private." 

Harry raised his hand just in time to make it seem as though he was about to knock when the door opened suddenly. 

"Ah! Harry!" Fudge greeted, clapping his hands together. "Come in, come in." Fudge's eyes darted toward the auror. Harry recognized him, having briefly seen him at the Quidditch World Cup after the Dark Mark appeared. "We were just finishing." 

"I can-" He began.

"Nonsense!" Fudge grabbed his hat from Dumbledore's desk. 

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. Harry wondered if the man knew that he had been standing outside for longer than Moody made it seem. 

He stepped into the room, making eye contact with Moody who winked as he turned. Dumbledore ushered the three men from the room, telling Harry he would be but a moment and to make himself comfortable. If only he hadn't made himself that comfortable. When he finally reemerged from the pensive, he was certain about one thing. His dreams were real. 

"Professor," Harry asked, "What happened to him? Mr. Crouch's son?"

"He was sent to Azkaban. Destroyed Barty to do it." Dumbledore sighed. "But he had no choice. The evidence was overwhelming. He died there." His eyes turned to Harry, evaluating him critically. 

Harry told him about the dreams he had been having, the one before the World Cup, and the reoccurrence of them throughout the year. He didn't mention the other, disembodied voice from the fireplace, for some reason it didn't seem like a good idea. Dumbledore made his way to the pensive, staring into the blue water as Harry spoke.

"But it's just a dream, right professor?" He thought he might be reassuring himself more than asking a question. 

"It might be wise to not dwell on these dreams, Harry," Dumbledore said. "It's best to just cast them away."

* * *

Will, along with everyone else, perked up when Harry returned rather dramatically to the entrance of the maze. But immediately, he saw that things were far more intense than they seemed at first glance. While those around him cheered, Will noted Harry's tears, the shaking of his body, and the stillness of Cedric Diggory's. Tears were streaming down Harry's face as a scream echoed throughout the stands. Will was among the few who pushed their way forward first. Dumbledore made it to Harry's side right as Will pushed his way through the crowd. The headmaster gripped the boy's face asking him what happened. 

"He's back," Harry choked out. "He's back. Voldemort's back." The tears were flowing freely and Will could see the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse on the other's body. He was shaking uncontrollably, his body both tense and loose in all the wrong places. Harry was still draped protectively over Cedric's body, refusing to move. "Cedric-" He choked. "Cedric asked me to bring his body back. I couldn't leave him. Not there." 

Will kept his face neutral as Harry was pushed aside slightly, Amos Diggory finally making his way through the crowd. Will could see the cut on Harry's arm, a long gash on his forearm. Harry's eyes met Will's for just a moment and flashes of images immediately accosted him. He caught a glimpse of a graveyard, of a man who Harry clearly hated, of a massive cauldron with boiling water. He watched as Harry's blood was added to the mixture and something else rose from within. He watched as the Death Eaters arrived and were unmasked, including Lucius Malfoy. He watched as Harry readied himself to duel. He felt the Cruciatus Curse as though it was placed on him. And then the memory changed and Harry was bathed in a golden light, his wand and the other's seemingly connected between them. And then Harry made his way to Cedric's body and grabbed the cup.

 _It's true,_ Will thought as Harry turned his head away. _Lord Voldemort has returned._

Harry wasn't the same after that night, not that Will could blame him. Igor Karkaroff fled the day after Cedric's memorial at Hogwarts, leaving his students to find their way back to their school on their own. There was a somber air over everything. The few classes left were tamer, the tests were easier. Harry spent move of the days moving around in a haze, though he didn't shy away from Will as he normally did. Will found him one day, sitting alone next to the Black Lake. He moved to sit next to him and the other didn't hurry him away.

"What now?" Harry asked though Will thought he was talking more to the lake than him. 

"Why ask me?" 

"Because you're the only one outside of Gryffindor tower who doesn't look at me like I'm crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy, Harry." _For good reason._ Will thought to himself but didn't say aloud. 

"So, now what?" 

"Now we go home."

Harry pulled his knees to his chest. "I don't have a home."

Two days later, as the students readied themselves to return to their own schools, Will found Hannibal standing off to the side. He was the only adult left from Durmstrang and it was expected he would in charge of returning the student to their school in place of their wayward headmaster. 

"Are you happy to be returning home?" Will asked, leaning into the wall.

Hannibal smirked slightly. "I'm leaving my position at Durmstrang after this year." Will raised an eyebrow. "I quite like it here." 

"You're coming back." It wasn't a question. 

"Would you prefer I stay away?" Hannibal asked. Will's eyes jumped over his broad form, the jut of his cheekbones, the perfect way his hair sat atop his head, his always immaculate dress, and the sharpness of his amber eyes that looked more like blood in the current light.

"Will you miss me while you're gone?" Will asked in lieu of an answer. 

The other tsked. "How many times must I remind you? It's inappropriate for a professor to be seen in such a way with a student."

"You won't be a professor for much longer." 

Will met the other's eyes. _I know who you are._ He thought. Hannibal's lips twitched slightly. 

"I do have one question before I leave," Hannibal leaned closer, dropping his voice. "Do you find me interesting?" 

_Extremely._ "I suppose you'll never know." Will shrugged, watching the flash of excitement in the other's eyes. "Perhaps I'll see you around, Professor." 

He walked away, feeling the heavy weight of those eyes on him as he did. 


	7. Chapter 7

Harry stared out the window of his uncle's car. Needless to say, it never ceased to surprise him that they bothered to pick him up after every year. It seemed they could sense Harry's mood and his unwillingness to deal with their normal brand of cruelty as even Dudley kept to himself. The drive was almost too much for Harry as it was by far the tensest drive he had ever experienced. Given the tension radiating off of him and the fact that his aunt, uncle, and cousin despised him, it was a miracle everyone made it back to Number 4 Privet Drive in one piece. Harry didn't bother listening to what would likely be a tirade from Uncle Vernon but instead pulled his trunk and Hedwig's cage up the stairs and into his room. He shut the door behind him with a soft click and opened Hedwig's cage and the window, letting her out if she wanted to go.

But the owl merely hooted at him softly before finding her way to the top of the cage and watching him carefully.

Harry fell onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Over and over, flashes of emerald shot behind his eyelids. He could still see Cedric keeling over, unmoving. He had tried to give the winnings to Cedric's parents who refused him. They didn't blame him for Cedric's death, which was more than he could say for himself. Harry blamed himself. If he hadn't insisted that Cedric take the cup with him, he would have lived. Maybe it would have been Harry who died in that graveyard. But the past was the past, there was nothing he could do to change it.

He thought for a moment about Hermione's time-turner and for a moment, he thought maybe he could undo it. But Hermione had surrendered the time-turner after their third year. She no longer took class loads that would require her to be in two places at once. He doubted anyone would agree to let him go back and undo the damage that had been done. He pressed his hands into his eyes further, making white spots dance before his eyes. Nothing could ever seem to replace the image of Cedric's dead body.

He stood, suddenly feeling the need to do something. He walked over to his trunk, letting it fall open, and began pulling clothes and other things from within. His sleeve shifted slightly, revealing the remnants of the slash Wormtail had dug into his arm. Much like the hole from the basilisk fang two years ago, the scar didn't fade completely. Harry knew it was there, so he could see it when his sleeve shifted just right.

Voldemort had returned. And he used Harry's blood to do it.

_It could be done without Harry Potter, my lord._

_It_ cannot _be done without Harry Potter._

Harry was the final piece to the puzzle of reviving Voldemort. Of giving him a body once more. Barty Crouch Jr., who had disguised himself as "Mad-Eye" Moody, had done his job. He had delivered Harry on a silver platter to Voldemort. But Harry had lived. He survived again, even though he was weak and drained. His mind unwillingly brought back the feel of the Cruciatus Curse and he shivered. 

He pulled his sleeve down, trying to force away the memories of that night, but he knew they haunted him right under the surface.

He unpacked his trunk, piling clothes here and there when something else fell out. Harry looked at the silver object that clattered to the floor. He set aside the shirt that the object had apparently been rolled in and picked up the object itself. 

It was a crown, or perhaps a tiara given the small nature of it. It was in the shape of an eagle, the wings branching off into the thin silver pieces that likely held the tiara in someone's hair. There was a sapphire jewel in the center which was polished enough that Harry could see his reflection in its depths. He turned it over in his hands, hearing a series of hisses. Bringing it closer to his ear, he listened noting that the hisses were radiating from the tiara itself. But nothing was menacing about them. They were beckoning, soothing. He pulled it away and stared at it for a moment more.

"Where did you come from?" He asked, not expecting an answer. 

He looked over the tiara once more, feeling as though he were being watched from within the depths of that jewel. But when he looked inward, the only thing that he saw staring back at him was his own face. He had the strangest feeling that the tiara was beckoning him to wear it, to keep it close, as though it belonged to him. 

He looked up at Hedwig who cocked her head and fluffed her feathers. He sighed and placed the tiara on his bedside table before rummaging through his trunk more.

* * *

Severus never claimed to be one who lacks emotion. Though often his go-to emotion was disgust and disdain for his students. He knew he played favorites, especially with those in Slytherin house. But even for all the favoritism he showed the Slytherins, he couldn't help but admit that he was not fond of Will Graham. There was something quite odd about the boy. He often hid behind his curls and a sweet smile, but Severus had the inkling that there was something far more terrifying about him. Something dark hid under the surface of those cunning eyes. He had the first inclination that something was odd with the boy during his first year.

Those raised by pureblood families were often taught occlumency, but never early in their lives. By the time they were 17, they had mastered the art, but most training for pureblood children began in their teens. He had never encountered a child raised by a pureblood family who already had a firm grasp of it when they were 11. That was until Will Graham. He remembered watching those cunning eyes dance of the Great Hall that first night, often landing on Harry Potter.

Severus would have to admit that Harry Potter was as much an enigma for him as he was for most others. He was incredibly surprised to find that Harry looked exactly like his father and Severus's childhood tormentor, James Potter. Except for his eyes. Those were wholly Lily's. He would have to admit that he an unfair bias toward the boy but he couldn't bring himself to break it. There were too many things about Harry Potter that reminded him of too much of his father. Or perhaps Severus was looking for them. 

Harry was far kinder than his father had ever been, even when he tried to change himself for Lily. Both James and Harry were smart, but Harry had a grasp of magic that was far beyond his years. He remembered in the boy's third year and seeing just how powerful a patronus the boy could produce. He never admitted to anyone, other than Dumbledore, that he had managed to arrive in time to see the two Harry's at the lake as the dementors descended. He was about to step in, noting that Harry was dying, when Harry himself appeared on the other side of the lake. 

He remembered watching the sheer amount of power in that patronus. He remembered watching it chase off the hordes of dementors. Harry and his friend, who Severus had caught a glimpse of, disappeared into the forest. It was he who brought Black and Harry back to the castle. 

He later learned that night that it wasn't Black who betrayed the Potters, as he had thought for 12 years. It was Pettigrew, who found his way back to Voldemort's side. For years he had harbored hatred for Sirius Black, and for good reason, but it appeared some of his hatred was unfounded. Though he would never admit that. 

Will Graham, on the other hand, was also incredibly powerful. Only once had he let that power slip in front of others. Students and teachers had talked about it for a week, after Draco's confrontation with Harry and subsequently Moody, how Will had managed to set the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on fire wandlessly. Will was third in his marks behind first Hermione Granger and then Draco Malfoy. It was also curious that Will had such a hold over the Malfoy heir. One word and the boy seemingly had his friend on a leash.

Much about Will Graham's origins were unknown. It was known that he was an orphan, much like Harry Potter. And also much like Harry, he was orphaned 13 years previously. He was taken in by the Malfoy family at the behest of Narcissa Malfoy who insisted on raising the boy alongside their son. Will was raised a Malfoy, but he was incredibly different from the Malfoys. If Severus didn't know any better he would say-

No, he wouldn't say. Not that.

All of this crossed his mind as he was summoned to Malfoy Manor just after the end of the term. He knew he would not only find Voldemort, but he would also find Wormtail and Will Graham amongst those present. Severus had seen Voldemort in his new form once before, only a few weeks previously after Harry returned with the dead body of Cedric Diggory. And here he was once again, returning to the side of the man he hated most in the world.

There would have been a time when he would have followed him anywhere. He would have conquered the world just to lay it at the man's feet. And he had only ever asked for one thing. For Lily to be spared. And she wasn't. 

When Severus arrived, he was greeted by Narcissa, who evaluated him with her ever cool expression before gesturing to the study he and the others were to wait in. Severus joined the likes of Lucius Malfoy, the elder Crabbe and Goyle, and a few other Death Eaters who had managed to escape persecution after Voldemort's reign 13 years ago. They stood in painful silence, all of them awaiting the arrival of their lord. Well, all except Severus. 

He was, in fact, an excellent spy. 

When Voldemort entered, the room seemed to drop in temperature. He distinctly remembered the man all those years ago and his snake-like appearance. Now, it seemed, he had fully embraced the snake image. His skin was thin and pale, resembling the scales of a snake. His eyes were blood-red slits. He had no nose, instead, there were the distinct slits that resembled the nose of a snake. His tongue was forked, something that was easily seen as he spoke. His voice was also higher, reminding Severus oddly of cut glass.

Nagini, his massive snake, slithered in behind him, making her way through the room. Severus repressed as shiver as she slid by him. 

"Please," Voldemort said quietly. "Sit my friends."

Voldemort remained standing, but the rest of them moved to the various chairs scattered around the room. He already had a vague idea of why they were being called. Some of Voldemort's followers, including Barty Crouch Jr. once again, had found their way to Azkaban. And that would not do for Voldemort. He would break them out. A gesture of loyalty for his most loyal followers. 

The man's, if he could be called a man, eyes danced over the room, taking in each person individually. He knew that the other was looking for signs of disloyalty but he would find none in Severus. Among other things, he was also a very good occlumens and legilimens. 

Behind them, the door opened once more and Severus refrained from turning to see who else had entered. Whoever it was, they had certainly drawn Voldemort's attention, which meant he would see them in a moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the form of Will Graham casually stroll into the room as though he owned it. Other's eyes were drawn to him, as often occurred at Hogwarts as well. Had someone so young found their way amongst Voldemort's ranks?

"I apologize for my tardiness," He said casually, his voice dripping with the same innocence he often used on professors, Severus included. "I was caught up with other tasks." 

He walked directly toward Voldemort, something only the bravest among them ever attempted before dropping to one knee at the man's feet. 

"Father."

_Father?_

Voldemort smirked. "Rise, my child." 

Will stood and Voldemort gestured to his right, a place Will moved to and took quickly, spinning to face the rest of the Death Eaters. He rolled his shoulders and pulled his chin upward, claiming the space as though he belonged there. And Severus suddenly feared that he did. 

* * *

The meeting passed without much entertainment for Will. He rather enjoyed the shocked look on everyone's faces, and the hint of shock he managed to glean from Severus Snape. But the meeting then changed to discuss a prison break and Will was rather bored. He'd already orchestrated one prison break, enough to have Barty out and about in the world once more. He didn't quite care to repeat the past. He stood lazily at his father's side as the man commanded the room, dictating where everyone should and should not go. Much to Lucius Malfoy's disdain, he also declared that the Malfoy house would be housing him for the time being. 

The meeting was eventually adjourned and Will moved to follow them.

"Not you."

Will nodded, waiting for the others to leave. He knew his father moved around the desk he had been standing in front of, taking a seat in the chair behind it. Nagini moved through the room, first brushing against Will and then moving to the desk, climbing her way upward and curling herself like an attack dog on the edge. The door clicked shut finally behind the last to leave before Will spun on his heel to face the only person left in the room.

"You did well," His father praised. "You delivered to me what was asked. And you have been a valuable asset within Hogwarts these last few years."

"There is more you need to know, Father," Will said when the other man finally paused. Most Death Eaters wouldn't dare interrupt him, but Will wasn't most Death Eaters. The man raised a hairless eyebrow, waiting for Will to continue. "I admit I had ulterior motives in helping to deliver Harry to you." 

Voldemort gestured to the chair across from him and Will took it, crossing one leg over another and leaning casually in the chair. 

"I suspected as much," There was a note of approval in his father's voice. "Continue." 

"Are you able to find the pieces of your soul?" Will asked. In truth he was curious. He never made a horcrux himself, but he knew all about them. Or as much as there could be known.

"I suppose," Voldemort answered.

"Then search for your soul, my father. See what I know." 

With a flash of irritation, his father did as Will said, closing his eyes. For a moment, he was incredibly still like a statue. Then his blood-red eyes flew open once more and a rather sinister smile crossed his face. 

"He's your horcrux," Will all but purred. "Your human horcrux." 

"And you have enlisted another part of my soul to watch him, I see." 

Will shrugged. "I thought it might be advantageous to watch him." Voldemort hummed in response. "You'll need that prophecy," Will said after a long silence.

"I will," The other confirmed. "I doubt I will be able to retrieve it myself. How do you suggest we find it?" 

Will smirked. "Barty and I delivered Harry to you so you could rise once more. I'm more than certain we could manage to lure him to the Ministry."

"You're suggesting I use the connection between us to coax him toward the Ministry, toward retrieving the prophecy."

Will gave a noncommittal shrug. "You nudge from your side, I nudge from mine." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk between them. "He trusts me now. After I helped him with the tournament. After I believed him about your return." 

"Very good." Voldemort hummed. "You shall have whatever reward you wish." 

"There's only one reward I want." He knew his father would agree. Especially given what he was about to say. His father was a competitive man, a vengeful man. He would not tolerate someone else treading on what he perceived as his. Once again, Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow, a silent request for him to continue. "Il Mostro," Will said. "He's here."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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